Might it be, as my mother said to me on this ugly, sinful day,/ That the world is on its last go-round?/ Hijacked wild birds strip the sky of its innocent morning breath/Steel towers crumple like playing cards on an uneven metal table...
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The Psalms are poems -- and indeed they are exquisite -- but I'm sorry the President wasn't able to keep God out of it. The names of the 3,000 dead would have been sermon and poem enough.
One of the things Mayor Michael Bloomberg insisted on for the 10th anniversary of 9/11 was no speeches, at least not from the elected officials who wo...
On that morning, still stunned and having dismissed my also stunned American literature class at University of Missouri, I made my way to a familiar coffee house and set to work on the following poem.
The Poetry Foundation:
Beyond Grief and Grievance
The poetry of 9/11 and its aftermath
BY PHILIP METRES
It was my second week as a newly-minte...
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